


Chroma

by eexiee



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Colors, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2019-03-25 19:58:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13841937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eexiee/pseuds/eexiee
Summary: Sehun thinks he must be the only Painter who hates his duty to color the world. Zitao is determined to help Sehun see the beauty in it all.





	Chroma

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by the music of Owl City (especially Youtopia feat. Adam Young by Armin van Buuren). Written for [sncj_bigbang](https://sncj-bigbang.livejournal.com/), originally illustrated by [miss-aztec57](https://miss-aztec57.livejournal.com/). 
> 
> Español [aquí](http://yue-kissys.livejournal.com/17844.html). Tiếng Việt ở [đây](https://from68to94.wordpress.com/2014/12/11/taohun-chroma-muc-luc/).
> 
> [Hespify](https://hesp.tumblr.com/) made two gorgeous edits ([here](http://hesp.tumblr.com/post/90775618607/exo-fic-illustrations-chroma-by-eexiee-part-i) and [here](http://hesp.tumblr.com/post/90774982372/exo-fic-illustrations-chroma-by-eexiee-part-i)) based on the fic too! Thank you all for the wonderful creative work. I couldn't be more flattered!!

Sehun knew what the border between color and monochrome looked like. He was the border between color and monochrome.  
  
His hair had a strand of every color, yet his skin was white as snow. And Sehun liked that his hair was painted, rather than his skin. He liked not being able to see his own hair because it reminded him of his unfortunate duty to color the world.

They were called Painters, formally. They were a division of the Creators, but those words were almost never used because there was almost nobody to use the words.

Sehun was a solitary creature, like most other beings on Earth, and like all the other Painters, he’d been on his own since he was five years old. He painted with his hands, consciously sending out colors from his fingertips. He had to paint everything from the blades of grass beneath his feet to the sky during the day.

Night was his favorite, because the black sky meant he didn’t have to color anything. He could just watch the little specks of white light appear and keep all other thoughts out of his head.

He knew he was different than other Painters. To be able to Create was a gift, and he should have reveled in the fact that he had something that many others did not. In fact, Sehun had never met another Creator who was unhappy with his station in life.

But Sehun hated his duty. Being on the border was maddening and horrible, because he was practically between two different worlds. He wanted constancy more than anything, but constancy was something that didn’t exist for Painters.

There were many rules to being a Creator, and Sehun had never once broken one. Creators were not allowed to be the companions of other Creators, nor were they allowed to break any of the rules that their specific division was placed under. In Sehun’s case, everything had its color and he was not allowed to experiment. If any of the rules were broken, the Governors would send out a team of Enforcers to punish the rule-breaker. Sehun hated the rules, but he followed them.

That’s not to say that he didn’t have some moments of short-lived happiness to break the monotony in his life.

He happened upon a small waterfall one day, little rivulets of blue that he’d painted upstream mixing in with the dust-colored water.  _What luck,_  he thought. He liked seeing colors that he hadn’t intentionally painted finding themselves elsewhere. The two colors weren’t a particularly beautiful combination, but the fact that they’d occurred without Sehun’s express interference made him happy nevertheless. Water was his favorite thing to color for that reason.

He dipped his fingers into the water, waiting for the clear blue to spread throughout the creek and to the waterfall downstream.

Sehun wasn’t expecting to hear a shout and a splash, so he immediately withdrew his fingers and ran to the waterfall’s edge to catch a glimpse of the commotion.

It wasn’t unusual for Sehun to meet other people—obviously, he couldn’t be the only person in the entire world—but he was definitely alone more often than not.

The person at the base of the waterfall was not like anyone he’d met before, but that wasn’t unusual either. He’d never met people who were the same as each other. This person was the first person, though, who looked approximately similar to Sehun in age, and that was intriguing.

He was muscular but not bulky, which Sehun appreciated, and though he had the same dusty complexion and hair color as the other people Sehun had met, somehow it worked better on this boy than all the others.

“It’s different,” the boy was repeating to himself, swirling his fingers in the water and watching the color spread. “It’s different; what is this?”

Sehun made his way down the craggy rocks until he reached the pool that the water was falling into. The boy was perched on the edge of the pool, wearing the same dusty colored trousers all the other males had been wearing. Sehun crept up soundlessly until he was several paces away from the boy, and then he cleared his throat.

The boy fell into the water out of surprise. When he resurfaced, he caught sight of Sehun and his breath visibly stopped.

“Oh, wow,” he said. “Wow.”

It was a common reaction—after all, for someone who had never seen color before, Sehun was quite a sight with his prismatic hair and rosy cheeks. Sehun watched the boy carefully, and the gesture was returned as the stranger pulled himself from the water. He had nice skin, even though it was dust-colored, interesting eyes and bow-shaped lips. As the boy planted his feet in the grass next to the pond, dripping wet but seemingly uncaring of that fact, Sehun spoke.

“I’m Sehun,” Sehun smiled at him blandly and began his standard spiel, which was much like a pitch to sell a product. “I’m here to color the world.” He hated how dumb it sounded.

“What’s ‘color?’” the boy asked, and again, it was a common question.

“This,” Sehun replied, pointing at his hair. “I’m going to make the world colorful. That’s blue,” he pointed to the water. “This is green,” he pointed to the grass he was standing on, where an emerald shade was starting to spread.

“It’s beautiful,” the boy breathed, taking a good look at Sehun’s countenance.

“Yes,” Sehun replied emotionlessly. It always went like this. “And before you ask, no, I can’t color you. I’m forbidden.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” the boy said, and that was new. Most people asked if there was some sort of way around it, trying to bribe Sehun with a “who’ll find out?” or a “come on, just once?” Other times people pouted and complained, and even more shunned color altogether, saying Sehun had no place coming and changing their world. He couldn’t help it, though; it was his job. He wasn’t allowed to stop until the world was completely colored.

“Don’t you get tired of it?” the boy asked, and that question took Sehun entirely by surprise. Nobody had ever asked him.

“Yes,” Sehun replied. “I’ve been tired of it for as long as I can remember. It would be one thing if the world was already colored, or if it was like this,” he pointed at the still-dusty patch of grass where the boy was standing, “but the fact that I’m always on the border is tiring.”

“Do you ever go back to places you’ve already colored?” the boy asked, and Sehun shook his head.

“I don’t have time. I have to color the world,” he said. The boy nodded, looking back at the water that was now a pale shade of blue. After a few seconds of silence, he turned back to Sehun.

“I’m Zitao, by the way,” he informed Sehun. “You’re Sehun, is that what you said?”

“Yes,” Sehun nodded. “Zitao.” Zitao grinned.

“You’re beautiful,” Zitao told him, and Sehun’s cheeks flared.

He couldn’t understand it; he’d been told dozens of times how beautiful he was, by men and women, both younger and older than himself. Of course he’d look beautiful to someone who’d never seen color, but the way Zitao said it sounded like a prayer. It felt as if he was telling Sehun he was beautiful as a whole, rather than for his colors alone.

But that was ridiculous, and Sehun knew it, so he responded in the same fashion as he had to everyone else who’d remarked on his appearance.

“Thank you,” Sehun said finally. It was time for him to leave, and he prepared himself to do the detachment. “I’m off. It was nice meeting you, Zitao.”

Zitao trailed after Sehun. “Can’t I come with you?”

“No,” Sehun said quickly, “you can’t.”

“I want to learn the colors,” Zitao said. “I only know blue and green now.” Sehun quickened his pace, green setting down with every step. It had always been hard to get rid of the people he met, but it was part of the job.

“I’m meant to be alone, and you’re meant to stay where you are,” Sehun snapped.

“Do you hate being alone as much as I hate staying where I am?” Zitao asked, and Sehun stopped. He turned around, and Zitao was watching him with intensely lonely eyes. Sehun wondered if perhaps his own eyes were reflecting in Zitao’s pupils.

“Probably more,” Sehun finally responded.

“Then take me with you,” Zitao said. Sehun sighed loudly, sitting down on the ground, preparing himself for a discussion. Zitao didn’t follow suit.

“It’s not that easy,” Sehun said. “You’d hate it after a while, anyway. It’s not a nice way to live—you’re used to staying in one place, but I’d be moving all day every day. It would be hard for you after a few days, or weeks if you’re lucky.”

It was then that Zitao sat down.

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” Zitao said, watching how the green grass was staring to surround him. Sehun looked up at him, and their eyes met, Sehun’s dark green ones with Zitao’s dusty ones.

He’d had a companion once, with the same dusty-colored eyes as Zitao. Luhan had been wonderful, an escape from Sehun’s over-saturated life. Sehun had loved him, truly and dearly, but Luhan had started to hate being on the border after a while. His depression started showing after seven weeks of being with Sehun day in and day out.

“I can see home, but I can’t touch it with you here,” Luhan had said with sad eyes. “I love you, Sehun, but I’m going insane.”

After that, Luhan had stayed for three more weeks until he’d broken down crying, telling Sehun to leave and never to come back. Sehun often wondered if Luhan ever thought about him, if maybe he regretted his decision.

But he knew where to find Sehun—all he had to do was to follow the color. Luhan had never showed up, even when Sehun had taken a two-week long pause just to see if he would. It had been ample time no matter how you looked at it, and Sehun figured he’d never see Luhan ever again.

“It’s difficult,” Sehun said finally to Zitao, and Zitao frowned.

“You’re lonely and I’m lonely,” Zitao said. “What’s difficult about that?”

“You’ll leave me eventually!” Sehun cried in exasperation. “You’ll go crazy; you’ll hate being out of your element. Even I hate it, but I can’t escape it!”

“Then let’s work on it together,” Zitao replied calmly. “We’ll share the burden.” Sehun wanted to say yes, he really did. But he had one final move to make.

“Why do you want to come with me?” he challenged. He always asked this question when people were getting overly persistent, and it was the one that shot everyone down. They’d always respond with “I want to see the world” or “I want to learn about color” or “I want to get out of here.” Those answers were all wrong.

Zitao’s answer, however, was not one of those.

“Because I don’t want you to be lonely,” Zitao said. And for the first time in his life, Sehun was stumped. Not even Luhan had answered in a way that had shaken Sehun’s heart so thoroughly.

“Alright, I’ll let you come with me, then,” Sehun finally sighed with defeat. He knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell Zitao no. There was something about him, and Sehun wanted to find out more. Zitao’s face brightened. Sehun stood up and Zitao followed, still grinning like a child.

“Hey,” he said, “how would you have colored this place if you had left?”

“I can do it from far away,” Sehun shrugged. “It takes a lot longer but I can do it.” Zitao followed him at a few paces, just watching the color spread from Sehun’s steps.

“Are you doing that consciously, or does it just appear?” Zitao asked, and Sehun sighed. He knew questions were normal, but at the same time, they were tedious to answer.

“I’m doing it consciously, I suppose. But I’ve been doing it for so long that it feels unconscious,” Sehun replied. He almost wished it hadn’t become something unconscious, because then at least it would give him something to think about.

“It’s really beautiful,” Zitao said, and Sehun was about to sigh dramatically when Zitao amended his statement. “But I can see how you’d get tired of it so quickly.”

“You can always turn back,” Sehun said flatly. “Better sooner than later, before we get attached to each other.”

Zitao laughed and Sehun kind of liked his laugh. “Didn’t I just say we would share the burden? I’m not going to leave.”

“That’s what Luhan said too,” Sehun snapped before he could stop himself.

“Was that your companion’s name?” Zitao asked gently, still following Sehun.

“Yes,” Sehun replied. “His name was Luhan and he broke apart because of me. I’m not kidding when I say you’ll probably go crazy. Turn back now if you’re going to do it.”

“I’m not going to leave,” Zitao insisted.

“Okay,” Sehun said, humoring Zitao for the time being. He didn’t believe Zitao and wouldn’t for a very long time.

Zitao sidled up to Sehun and watched him carefully as they walked at a decent pace. “What color is this, then?” he asked, pointing to Sehun’s cheek. “Oh—oh, it’s changing!”

“Shut up; it’s not,” Sehun snapped.

“It is! It’s like—different,” Zitao tried to explain despite his lack of color-related vocabulary. “Wow, you’re so beautiful.”

Sehun admitted to himself that perhaps his cheeks were changing color.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Zitao was nice to be around, in truth. He always seemed happy and he was as playful as Luhan had once been, if not more. He’d demand to know about the colors, and he decided that his favorite color was the color Sehun painted the peaches they’d encountered on their third day together. (“My name means ‘peach’ in my language, but I never knew they had such a beautiful color.”) He had asked Sehun what his favorite color was, and Sehun had responded immediately with “black, like the night sky.” Zitao looked inexplicably excited.

In fact, Zitao frequently asked Sehun personal questions, and Sehun found that he actually enjoyed responding to them. It had been a long time since he’d spoken to anyone, and even longer since anyone had been so interested in him beyond the normal “what are you?” questions.

Sehun, on the other hand, somehow couldn’t work up the courage to ask about Zitao until their seventh day together.

“Zitao,” he said, “have you…have you ever had a companion?” He couldn’t explain why he was so nervous to ask—it wasn’t as if he had anything to lose by asking.

“Yeah,” Zitao replied casually, “his name was Jongdae.”

“What happened to him?” Sehun asked. Zitao shrugged.

“We started to dislike each other after a few years,” he said, “and then he met a handsome Cultivator—someone who creates life; I don’t know if you’ve ever happened upon one—and we decided it was best if we split up.”

Now all sorts of things were running through Sehun’s head and he wasn’t sure what to make of that. He suddenly had so many more questions to ask Zitao.

“Were you two…you know, romantically…” he began, but Zitao shook his head.

“No,” he replied, “I don’t think I could have been with him like that.”

“Do you miss him?” Sehun asked.

Zitao laughed comfortably, and Sehun relaxed a little. “I missed him not because of him but rather because I was lonely. Anyone would have done, is what I’m saying,” Zitao said, and then he quickly realized that what he’d said could have been very insulting to Sehun. “Not that you are just anyone, you know. If you were to leave me I’d miss you for you. Jongdae was just a cure for my loneliness and you are actually someone I want to be around.”

Sehun recognized the feeling of his stomach flipping over. Luhan had caused the same reaction. He told himself he was being ridiculous, but somehow he couldn’t stop replaying Zitao’s words in his head. Zitao was too honest and Sehun was going to be misled if he kept listening to Zitao like that.

“Hey, what would you call that color?” Zitao asked, pointing at a lock of Sehun’s hair.

“I can’t see it,” Sehun said. Zitao tried pulling his hair down to let Sehun have a look, but Sehun just winced and Zitao gave up.

“It’s not green and it’s not blue. I don’t think so, anyway. It’s in between. What color is that?”

“Zitao, you changed the subject on purpose, didn’t you?” Sehun asked knowingly, and Zitao withdrew his fingers from Sehun’s hair. He frowned.

“I just thought you’d mention Luhan again,” Zitao said quietly, and Sehun could hear a note of building irritation in his voice. “And personally, I don’t like how you describe him.”

“What’s wrong with me mentioning Luhan?” Sehun demanded defensively. He took a step away from Zitao and stared him down. Zitao looked affronted.

“Look, Sehun, I don’t want to offend you because then things will be weird between us, and I really want to stay with you.” He seemed finished, but Sehun wasn’t going to accept that as an answer.

“So what you mean is that you’ll offend me if you give me your reason why you don’t want me to talk about Luhan, right?” Sehun asked, and Zitao sighed. He opened and closed his mouth several times before deciding finally to speak.

“You say he loved you, right? Then why did he leave you?” Zitao asked, looking inquisitive rather than accusatory. Sehun figured it was only fair for him to stay calm too, so he replied in the most polite way he could think of.

“He was going insane,” Sehun replied calmly.

“Why?” Zitao asked, but Sehun got the feeling that he was trying to get Sehun to question himself rather than actually find out the answer.

“Because,” Sehun said in a very controlled voice, “he missed his home.”

“His home was with you,” Zitao replied.

“He missed the status quo,” Sehun rolled his eyes as he amended his statement, but he was starting to get angry.

“How could he?” Zitao demanded, and his voice was slightly louder than it had been before. Sehun glared at him.

“Anyone would be!” he cried. “Changing your surroundings completely is taxing, you know, it’s common sense! It’s no wonder he was going crazy.”

Zitao looked at the grass, which was a less-saturated shade of green than it should have been. “So you think I’m going to go crazy too?” he asked Sehun in a small voice. “You honestly think that I’ll lose my mind and leave you?”

“Yes,” Sehun replied firmly. “I do think that.” Zitao looked up and there was a sparkle in his dusty eyes.

“I’ll prove you wrong,” he said. “You just wait, Sehun. You’ll see; I won’t leave you.”

Sehun shrugged, fixing the grass’ color before turning away from Zitao. “Good. Prove me wrong. But until then, I’ll keep thinking that you’re going to leave me.”

Zitao walked behind Sehun after that, and over the few days after, they had minimal conversation. Despite that, Sehun could sense Zitao’s resolve.

Though Sehun wouldn’t admit it, Zitao’s aura of tenacity was reassuring.

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
After their argument, things had become slightly awkward between Sehun and Zitao. To Sehun’s chagrin, Zitao had taken to asking Sehun somewhat obnoxious questions.

“What’s the difference between this color and this color?” Zitao asked, comparing the green of the grass with the green of the leaves Sehun had just painted.

“They’re both green,” Sehun replied tiredly. “This one,” he pointed to the grass, “is a lighter shade than this one.”

“What’s a shade?” he asked. He compared the two colors again, trying to decide just what made the two colors the same but different at the same time.

“It’s like…how light it is. A darker shade means it’s closer to being black. A lighter shade means it’s closer to being white. Every color has multiple different shades.”

“But this and this both don’t look white or black,” Zitao complained. “How do I know?”

Sehun sighed, not in the mood for teaching Zitao everything about colors. He didn’t even want to try to introduce the words ‘tone’ or ‘tint’ because it would just confuse him. “Look, I’ll give you a simple explanation. This green looks like it has some yellow in it, right? And this green doesn’t. So the green with the yellow is a lighter shade, and the green without is a darker shade.”

Zitao looked at the leaf and the grass, seeming to understand.

“But—but what if it’s equally green and yellow? Is it green, or is it yellow? Or is that a different color?” Zitao asked, sounding confused again.

“That’s up for you to decide,” Sehun sighed. “Can we talk about something else?” Zitao nodded, but Sehun had the distinct feeling that the topic would come up again in the future.

“Okay then, Sehun,” he asked, “what’s your favorite place you’ve ever been?”

“Zitao, you don’t need to ask questions,” Sehun said, but Zitao shook his head.

“I want to,” he said childishly. “What’s your favorite place you’ve ever been?”

Sehun pondered for a moment. There had been that mountain lake that had taken days to paint—Luhan had hated that place, but Sehun had enjoyed the scenery—but it wasn’t Sehun’s favorite place.

“There was this grove,” he finally said, reminiscing. “It was beautiful. I painted hundreds of trees and when the sun shone through them, it lit up the grove. It was like nothing you’ve ever seen before.” Zitao smiled, looking as if he wanted to see that grove as well.

“Did Luhan go with you?”

“No,” Sehun replied quickly, thinking that Luhan would have hated that grove as well. “It was after he left.”

“I’d like to see something like that,” Zitao said quietly, and Sehun looked up in slight surprise.

“Really?” he asked. “It’s…it’s just a lot of painting though.” Zitao shook his head again.

“I don’t think you understand,” he said with a bit of a chuckle. “I want to see it because it’s your favorite place. If you liked it, what’s not to like?” Sehun wanted to reply that Sehun had liked Luhan, but Zitao didn’t like him. He thought better of it, though, and instead shrugged.

“We’ll find somewhere nicer, I bet. Somewhere that we’ll both really like.” For some reason, an ecstatic expression was stealing across Zitao’s face, and Sehun looked at him with disdain.

“What are you smiling like that for?”

“You’re thinking about us being together. As if you don’t think I’ll leave you. It makes me happy,” Zitao replied.

“Oh—just, no, that’s not—” Sehun stuttered, and Zitao grinned wickedly at him. Sehun pushed Zitao away and Zitao laughed, latching back onto Sehun’s arm as he teased Sehun mercilessly.

“That’s my favorite shade of pink,” Zitao applied his new vocabulary and Sehun pouted as Zitao pointed to Sehun’s cheeks.

“Shut up.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Why do you paint all the flowers red? Doesn’t that get boring?” Zitao asked one day. Sehun glared.

“Of course it gets boring. Everything is boring.”

“Then why do you do it? Why don’t you paint them a different color?” Zitao wondered. He was lying in the grass next to the flower patch that Sehun was painting, the bright green still a startling contrast from his dusty appearance.

“I can’t do that,” Sehun replied. “It’s forbidden.”

“Yeah, I know it’s forbidden. Who on Earth is forbidding you to relieve your boredom? You always say ‘it’s forbidden,’ but who is forbidding you?”

“The—the Earth,” Sehun replied sheepishly. Zitao looked at him skeptically. “Zitao, I can’t disobey the Earth.”

“What would happen if you did it? One flower, if you painted one flower a different color. What would happen?”

Sehun looked around, as if to see if anyone would notice if he did anything. Of course, nobody was there; he hadn’t seen anyone since he’d happened upon Zitao.

“Well,” Sehun said defensively, “someone would find out and I’d be punished.” Zitao flopped over onto his stomach.

“So you’re saying that you’ve never broken a rule?” Zitao asked incredulously. Sehun turned to him with a pout.

“Rules are not meant to be broken, Zitao,” Sehun replied. Zitao smiled mischievously and spread out on the grass.

“Who’ll find out about one little flower?” Zitao asked. “And if they do, so what? You’re here to make the world colorful. Why not make it as colorful as possible?”

Sehun didn’t turn around, instead kneeling down to the next flower in the patch and pressing two fingers to it, watching the red spread to its petals and the adjacent flowers.

And then Zitao tackled Sehun, tickling him mercilessly. They tumbled over, Zitao on top of Sehun, Zitao laughing crazily while even Sehun giggled despite himself.

Zitao pulled back in surprise, looking at Sehun.

“Did you just laugh?” he asked. “Sehun, you laughed, didn’t you?”

“I can laugh, you know,” Sehun replied, his voice as deadpan as ever. “I just don’t very often. I’m really ticklish, though, so—” and he was cut off when Zitao started to tickle him again.

“Sehun, you should smile more often,” Zitao said between barks of laughter. “You’re even more beautiful when you laugh.” Sehun sighed as Zitao stopped tickling him, instead arranging himself next to the pale boy.

They lay silently for a few moments, catching their breaths as Sehun pondered what Zitao had just said.

“You know,” he began, “I’m so colorful and bright. And you—you’re just dust-colored. But I’m dry and uninteresting while you’re vivid. That’s why I hate this the most. Because I can’t be what I look like.”

Zitao smiled, reaching over to ruffle Sehun’s multicolored hair.

“Where’s the fun in being what you look like? I’m not what I look like either, but I think you’re discounting yourself,” Zitao said gently, and Sehun pouted.

“No,” Sehun replied.

“Yeah,” Zitao said. “Take a look at that flower.” Sehun turned to where Zitao was pointing, and to his horror, the flower was streaky orange and yellow instead of red, like it was supposed to be. He shot up, turning to Zitao with wide eyes.

“I ruined it! I got distracted when you were tickling me. Oh no, what am I going to do? I’m going to get in so much trouble,” Sehun panicked. Zitao huffed.

“Sehun, you’re not going to get into trouble. I’ve been with you for four weeks now and nothing’s happened. That flower looks beautiful and it shows that you have some excitement in you,” Zitao said. Sehun calmed down for a moment to look at the flower, and Zitao was kind of right. It did look beautiful, and it was different. It was an escape from monotony.

Sehun smiled.

“You’re beautiful, Sehun, inside and out,” Zitao breathed. Sehun turned back to Zitao, uncaring that his face was now a brilliant shade of crimson—the same shade the flower was supposed to be.

“You keep saying that,” Sehun said with a shy grin.

“I’ll keep saying it,” Zitao chuckled. “I’ll keep saying it until you say it yourself. Until you believe it.”

“You’ll be saying it for a long time, then,” Sehun replied, and Zitao smiled, turning to face the blue sky that Sehun had painted diligently that morning.

“I’ll say it for as long as I have to.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
They’d been together for almost six weeks when they happened upon a grove much like the one Sehun had told Zitao about. Zitao had looked at it wondrously when Sehun had told him that it was similar.

“I love it already,” Zitao said, and Sehun hadn’t even started painting yet. Sehun gave him a small smile.

“Wait ‘til you see it with color,” Sehun told him, and the painting began. When Sehun painted, Zitao usually sat still, just watching him. Sometimes he sang—and his voice wasn’t perfect, but Sehun liked it nevertheless. He sang about things Sehun didn’t understand, using words Sehun had never heard before (Sehun assumed it was in Zitao’s language, a mixture of the one Sehun spoke and some other words), but Sehun could still tell that the lyrics were quite pretty.

“What is this song about?” Sehun asked, green seeping into the leaves of the trees.

“Sehun, do you know what a star is?” Zitao asked, referring to one of the words in the song he’d been singing.

“No,” Sehun replied. “What is it?”

“Have you ever looked up into the sky at night and seen little twinkling lights?” Zitao asked, and immediately Sehun knew what he was talking about.

“Yes!” he cried excitedly. “I love those. On the nights they come out, I love watching them until I fall asleep.”

“Those are stars,” Zitao explained.

Sehun decided to paint one of the trees a slightly lighter shade of green as he pondered the new information. “I like that word,” he said. “It sounds pretty. It sounds nice when you sing it.”

“You’re making me blush,” Zitao laughed.

“You can’t blush,” Sehun replied with a quiet chuckle. Zitao nodded as if to say ‘touché’ and let Sehun continue painting.

“Just wait, Zitao, it’ll be so nice when all the colors are in. I hope I can finish before sunset, because you’ll see how it glows.” Zitao started singing again, and the song seemed more meaningful now that Sehun knew what stars were. He hoped the stars would come out that night, because they were beautiful.

Ever since Zitao and Sehun had started becoming closer, Sehun had found that he’d started to feel happier more often. He liked having someone to talk to, he liked seeing Zitao playing around, and more than anything, he liked waking up to see Zitao a few paces away, sleeping peacefully on his side. Every morning’s glimpse at Zitao’s face was a miracle in itself, because it meant that Zitao hadn’t left him yet.

But Sehun got the feeling that he didn’t like having Zitao around merely because he was lonely. He liked hearing Zitao tell him he was beautiful and talking about things they’d do together in the future. He liked imagining a future together. Sehun found himself wondering if Zitao felt the same way, or if not leaving Sehun was just to prove that he wouldn’t go back on his word.

Either way, when they sat close to each other on cool, breezy evenings to keep each other warm, Sehun couldn’t deny that his heart was fluttering like the flower petals he’d just painted.

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Seven weeks had passed. Sehun had been counting—of course, he didn’t let Zitao know that—but it had officially been seven weeks and Zitao was showing no signs of leaving him. He was still as happy as ever, though he constantly pestered Sehun to paint things colors they shouldn’t be.

Sehun was looking for the signs, of course; the indicators that Luhan had started exhibiting. The ones that Sehun had noticed too late. Zitao never remarked that the colors looked the same unless he was telling Sehun to make something a more exciting color. Zitao never talked wistfully of his home; in fact, he had taken to referring to his home as being with Sehun, which Sehun liked. But the biggest thing was that Zitao never walked ahead of Sehun. It had been one of the more telling signs that Luhan was starting to hate being on the border. He had always walked in front of Sehun so he wouldn’t have to see the color.

Zitao, on the other hand, seemed to revel in it. He never tired of lying in the bright green grass or playing in a clear blue pool.

Sehun still didn’t believe that Zitao wasn’t going to leave him, though. Maybe Zitao just had a stronger resolve than Luhan did, and he’d crack at eight weeks, or ten weeks, or fifteen weeks. Sehun knew Zitao would leave eventually.

Despite that knowledge, Sehun started to open up a little bit more. It was awkward, since he was doing it consciously, but Zitao didn’t seem to notice Sehun’s discomfort.

It was an evening, nearly dusk, and Sehun was lying down a few paces away from Zitao. They both looked at the sky, a brilliant blue that was starting to lose its saturation, just as it was supposed to. Sehun wasn’t meant to color the night sky.

“Color it blue,” Zitao said suddenly.

“It’s night time,” Sehun replied. “It’s supposed to fade to black.”

“That doesn’t make sense. It goes from blue to black? Shades, Sehun. You remember shades? Wouldn’t it make more sense if the shade got darker and darker until finally it faded to black? Paint it blue, Sehun. Deep navy blue.”

“Zitao, I’ll get—”

“I know, you’ll get in trouble.” Sehun could hear Zitao’s pout, and to be honest, it was a little cute.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Sehun replied, and Zitao shot up, looking at him.

“Really?” he asked incredulously. “You’ll really do it?”

Sehun nodded. He hadn’t painted anything the wrong color since the flower so many weeks before, but Zitao hadn’t stopped asking. Perhaps it was time to appease his companion for once. “Deep navy blue only,” Sehun said. “No bright blue, no purple, no yellow. Deep navy blue.”

Zitao grinned again. He stood up, reaching for Sehun’s hand.

“Let’s make it fun,” he said, and Sehun took his hand, allowing Zitao to help him up. His heart was fluttering wildly.

“Fun how?” Sehun asked. Suddenly, Zitao wrapped his arms around Sehun’s waist and pulled him close, then lifted him up as he spun around.

“Paint, Sehun!” Zitao cried with a huge smile plastered on his face as he swung Sehun through the air.

And Sehun painted, a laugh escaping his lungs. Zitao set Sehun down and beamed at him, intertwining their fingers as they started to dance. The sky started to turn a lovely shade of dark blue as Sehun and Zitao turned and turned, and Sehun couldn’t stop smiling.

They danced for close to an hour before they collapsed against each other, still swaying slowly in the cool night air. The sky had long faded to black, but they didn’t care. Sehun hadn’t felt so comfortable since he’d seen Luhan happy, and that was a long time ago.

“Should we sleep?” Zitao murmured against Sehun’s hair. Sehun shook his head.

“I don’t want to,” he said. “I want to stay just like this.” He wanted to stay in Zitao’s arms, Zitao in his. Maybe one day he’d want to kiss Zitao and maybe one day go further than that. But for now, being in Zitao’s embrace was the only thing he wanted.

“I’m really tired, though,” Zitao said slowly. Sehun suddenly lost all confidence. Of course Zitao didn’t think of him like that. Zitao wasn’t Luhan, and Sehun had to stop thinking that he could be.

“Yeah, okay,” Sehun replied, pulling away from Zitao. Suddenly the night was cold, and he hated the blackness of it. There weren’t even any stars in the sky. He settled down on the soft grass and closed his eyes.

“Sehun,” Zitao said quietly, “wasn’t that fun?”

“Yeah,” Sehun responded. He heard Zitao sigh, but Sehun didn’t think that he any right to sigh like that when Sehun was the one who’d been disappointed.

 

 

 

 

 

Zitao knew something was up; Sehun could tell. He was cautious around Sehun, making sure not to say anything but mild small talk, and he gave Sehun a lot of alone time. 

Curiously enough, Zitao was doing the same thing Sehun had done when Luhan was starting to draw into himself. But Sehun didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to be with Zitao. 

Zitao finally brought it up one late afternoon as Sehun painted a small brook. 

“What’s wrong, Sehun?” Zitao finally asked. “You seem like you’re in a bad mood. You’ve been like this for a week now.”

Sehun bit his lip, looking away from Zitao. How could he say that he had feelings for Zitao that Zitao obviously didn’t reciprocate?

“Sehun?” Zitao persisted, crawling towards Sehun. “Are you scared I’m going to leave you again? Didn’t I tell you that I wouldn’t leave?”

“It’s not that,” Sehun finally said.

“What is it, then?” Zitao asked, his voice gentle. “Sehun, tell me.”

“I can’t,” Sehun replied. “I can’t tell you.”

“It’s—it’s not something bad, right?” Zitao asked, sounding panicky. “Did someone find out about the flower? Or the dusk sky?”

“No,” Sehun sighed, “it’s not that either. Nothing like that. I’m just being silly, don’t worry about it.” Zitao leaned in, trying to catch Sehun’s green irises in his own dusty ones. 

Sehun made the mistake of making eye contact. Even after a split second, Zitao could read the emotions in Sehun’s eyes.

“It’s me, isn’t it?” he asked. “I did something that made you uncomfortable.”

“No!” Sehun cried. “Not…no, not uncomfortable. Just—ah, I don’t know. Don’t mind me.” He dipped his fingers back into the water, waiting for the blue to spread. 

Zitao laughed and hugged Sehun around the middle, catching him off guard. “You’re so silly, Sehun. That’s why I l—”

“Get off,” Sehun said irritably. He couldn’t let Zitao confuse him, but then again, Zitao was the one that looked confused. 

“You’re mad at me,” he said as if it was a perfectly obvious fact. 

Sehun gave a labored sigh. “I’m not mad, I’m just—tired, that’s all.” Zitao looked at him in disbelief, a hint of a frown starting to appear on his lips. Those beautiful, bow-shaped lips. 

“Sehun…if you want me to leave, that’s another thing entirely.”

“So you’re saying you’ll leave? Are you just trying to get me to tell you to leave so that you can get away from me?” Sehun demanded, a lump welling up in his throat.

“I didn’t say anything like that!” Zitao cried. “I’m going to stay with you until you don’t want me anymore.”

“I’ll always want you!” Sehun snapped, and it took him a moment to realize the depth of what he’d just said. Zitao looked taken aback as well, and Sehun could have sworn that there was color in his cheeks. 

“What?” Zitao asked finally, after what seemed like several long minutes of staring at Sehun with incredulity. The sky was already starting to fade. 

“No, I mean—I like having you here because I’m not lonely and I don’t get bored as fast, so…so don’t leave. Because you’d be bored too,” Sehun said sheepishly. He ran a hand through his colorful locks and hissed in annoyance with himself. 

“You’re saying you like me?” Zitao ventured, a smile on his face. “Because I really like you, if that changes anything.”

Sehun looked up in surprise. ‘But—the other night, when we were dancing—you pulled away even though I said I wanted to stay.”

“I was tired,” Zitao shrugged. “We danced for more than an hour, you know. And anyway, if I didn’t like you, I’d tell you; you don’t need to assume things.”

“So…so this means you…I mean, Zitao, yeah, I like you. I like you a lot. I think I want to kiss you.”

Zitao laughed and leaned in, pressing his lips to Sehun’s without hesitation. The kiss was quick and chaste, but when Zitao pulled away, Sehun couldn’t stop smiling. He pounced on Zitao, hugging him close and kissing his cheeks. Zitao’s cheeks were hot and soft, and Sehun wanted to stay in his arms forever. Zitao reciprocated when he could, his lips brushing Sehun’s cheeks every now and then as Sehun showered him with affection.

“Sehun—Sehun,” Zitao laughed. “Sehun, look!” He pointed at the sky. Sehun pulled away from Zitao reluctantly to see what Zitao was pointing at, and he was horrified to discover that the sky was mixing shades of bright pink and orange.

“No!” Sehun cried. “No, I have to fix this!” He moved to change the sky back to blue, but Zitao grabbed his hand. 

“It’s pretty,” Zitao said. “Take a look at it for a minute before you go erasing things.” 

It was beautiful. It was probably one of the more beautiful things Sehun had ever painted, and he almost felt as if he was creating something rather than just filling in spaces. 

“I like it, actually,” Sehun said. 

“Ah!” Zitao cried. “Wouldn’t it be beautiful by the ocean? When you paint the ocean blue—and then it will reflect in the blue and it will look so romantic.” He looked dreamily at the oddly colored sky and Sehun laughed. 

“Blue doesn’t look good with orange and pink, silly,” Sehun laughed, and Zitao turned to him with a smile. 

“Let’s go to the ocean,” he said. Sehun had never felt quite this excited about anything. 

“Okay,” he replied, taking Zitao’s hand in his own. 

 

 

 

 

It was a three day walk to the ocean—that’s what Zitao told him, anyway, and Sehun had no idea how Zitao knew where the ocean was—but it was enjoyable now that Sehun knew that Zitao felt the same way about him. 

He still thought in the back of his mind that he would leave, because Luhan had loved him too.

But Zitao—Zitao was different, and Sehun had known it from the beginning. Zitao loved Sehun in a different way that Luhan had. The way Zitao acted around Sehun was as if he was hanging around Sehun for both of their sakes and not just out of a misplaced sense of adventure or loneliness. He appreciated Sehun for who he was.

“Paint it yellow!” Zitao suggested excitedly, pointing at a mushroom on the ground. “Don’t you think it would look cool?”

“I want to paint it red,” Sehun disagreed. “Red with white spots.” Zitao beamed. 

“There you go, Sehunnie,” he smiled as Sehun reached down to paint the little mushroom. He was getting more daring because of Zitao’s constant pestering. He looked up once he was done painting to see Zitao’s proud eyes looking back at him. Even though Zitao’s countenance was still dusty and colorless, Sehun saw more colors in him than he’d ever seen in himself. It was just another example of how different Zitao was from Luhan. Luhan hadn’t exuded the vibrant personality that Zitao had—his interior had matched his exterior. Zitao and Sehun were complementary in a way Luhan and Sehun had never been. 

“You’re wonderful,” Sehun said, and Zitao looked taken aback.

“H-hey, stop being silly,” Zitao said, and his cheeks darkened. Sehun stood up, watching the shy side of Zitao he’d never really seen before. 

“I’m not,” Sehun smiled. “You really are a great person. You helped me realize that coloring the world can be something other than boring.”

Zitao turned back to Sehun with a sly grin. “Well, if that’s all it takes to be a great person, you haven’t been letting me realize my full greatness until just now.” He punched Sehun playfully on the shoulder. “I’m glad you finally understand.”

“Me too,” Sehun laughed, taking Zitao’s hand. 

“Don’t color me by accident,” Zitao joked.

“I won’t,” Sehun replied. “I’m not that careless.”

“Oh, you mean you won’t accidentally color the sky just because you’re happy I kissed you?” Zitao teased, and Sehun pushed him away with a laugh. 

“Fine,” he replied, “maybe I am a little careless. But it’s hard to color a human.” Zitao faltered for a moment and looked at him with a difficult smile. 

“Did you color Luhan?” he asked, and Sehun thought his voice sounded controlled.

“No,” Sehun replied firmly. “I didn’t. I’m not allowed, Zitao, and in any case, I don’t think he wanted to be painted.” Zitao visibly relaxed.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “I was getting jealous.”

“You don’t have to be jealous of Luhan,” Sehun grinned, squeezing Zitao’s hand. Zitao pulled him in for a kiss, but this time, Sehun wasn’t going to let it be quick and chaste like the last one. He didn’t know what came over him—he was never this daring—as he curled his fingers around Zitao’s neck and pressed their lips together. Zitao seemed surprised as Sehun licked his way into his companion’s mouth, but he didn’t pull back. Sehun’s other hand found its way to Zitao’s waist and Zitao wrapped his own arms around Sehun’s torso. Zitao’s lips were warm and soft in a way Luhan’s never had been, and Sehun liked that. Zitao wasn’t Luhan, and he liked that too. 

When they finally pulled away from each other, Sehun was sure that Zitao would have been flushed red had he been painted. His face was a tone darker than it normally was, and the shy smile he gave Sehun made Sehun want to kiss him like that all over again. 

“Wow,” Zitao said after a few seconds, looking at Sehun with an expression of incredulity and admiration. “I’ve never been kissed like that before.”

“Get used to it,” Sehun said nonchalantly before giving Zitao a sly grin. Zitao laughed as Sehun painted the grass a bright green, but Sehun was shaking inside. 

He’d never been so bold before, always letting Luhan take the initiative until Luhan stopped wanting to do anything at all. He felt amazing. He’d done something daring, Zitao had responded so favorably, and for the first time Sehun could remember, he felt confident about himself. 

He felt beautiful.

 

 

 

 

On the second day of walking, they saw a village on the horizon.

It wasn’t often that Sehun had encountered a village. He’d been born in one, of course, and had visited four or five in all his years of painting. Zitao said he’d only ever been to three. They were both excited, of course, because villages were the peak of civilization in a sparsely populated world. 

But villages were tricky in Sehun’s mind, because painting villages was difficult, both to paint the entire thing as well as dealing with its inhabitants. Sehun and Zitao decided that Sehun wouldn’t paint the village until they were far away, and instead, they’d buy some things in the village while they were able. Sehun didn’t bother covering his color, though he could perfectly easily, because he figured the people would be slightly less shocked when their village started changing if they’d already seen color.

As soon as they entered the village, people predictably began to whisper. Children would excitedly sidle up next to Sehun and ask him all sorts of questions, which Sehun would ignore. Zitao laughed at how cute they were, but he kept close to Sehun, as if to say ‘this beauty is mine.’ Sehun liked that a lot. 

They ended up at a shop advertising the ocean, and it had beach supplies for sale that Sehun had never even imagined. 

“Are you headed for the beach?” the old woman asked Zitao, pointedly looking away from Sehun. Sehun got that reaction often, because people didn’t like to act as if Sehun’s presence was surprising. He accepted that fact and let Zitao do the talking. 

“Yes,” Zitao replied politely. “Neither of us has ever been. Do you recommend anything?”

The old woman smiled brightly, taking Zitao’s arm and leading him across the shop, Sehun on their heels. “You’ll need this all-inclusive beach package for two,” she said, showing them a basket. “It has a blanket to keep the sand off of you, and smaller ones to keep yourselves warm. There’s a salve to keep your skin healthy and moisturized. A shovel and pail if you’re interested in building sandcastles, and a parasol to keep the sun away from you. All this for fifty coins!”

Zitao was ready to accept the offer, but Sehun butt in with a simpering smile. “I’m sorry, madam, but we really don’t have quite that much to spend. Do you think perhaps we could have it for thirty-five coins?” The woman bit her lip and sighed. 

“Forty,” she said, and Sehun smiled. 

“Deal,” he said. “Thank you very much.” Zitao watched as Sehun exchanged the coins for the basket, and he nudged Sehun as they left the shop. 

“How did you do that?” Zitao asked. 

“Luhan taught me,” Sehun shrugged. “I never told you I found him in a village, did I?”

“Oh,” Zitao replied. “No wonder he went crazy.”

“Mm,” Sehun nodded. “In any case, now we’re prepared for the beach.” Zitao grinned at him and placed a kiss on his cheek quickly. 

“It’s going to be really fun, don’t you think?” he asked, and Sehun nodded vigorously. “Hey, we should get some food. Villages have the best food.”

“Cheese!” Sehun cried excitedly. “We could get cheese, and bread, and salted ham. They might even have sweets!” Zitao also looked giddy as they ventured into the corner of the village that sold food, and before long, they’d filled another basket with delicious food to consume at the beach. Sehun told Zitao about sandwiches, a kind of food he’d had once, and that they could make some when they got to the ocean. Zitao couldn’t hold in his excitement. 

They were both reluctant to leave the village, but knowing that the ocean was a mere day’s walk away brightened their spirits significantly. 

 

 

 

 

When they got to the beach, the first thing Sehun did was push Zitao into the water with a laugh. 

“How does it feel?” he asked, watching Zitao stumble in the waves. 

“It’s actually not bad,” Zitao responded. “Come on in!” Sehun shed his shirt, leaving it on the sand as he ventured in after Zitao. The water really wasn’t bad, not too cold. As soon as he was up to his waist in water, he dipped his fingers in and the deep blue of the ocean spread faster than it ever had before. 

“Wow!” Zitao cried, watching as the waves turned blue around him. “Sehun, this is amazing!”

“Watch this,” Sehun said, and he splashed some water at Zitao. Zitao sputtered and shook the water out of his face before grinning mischievously and splashing some back at Sehun. 

They played in the water all afternoon, until all they could see was blue ocean. The sky was starting to fade, and Sehun kept his word to Zitao, painting the sky a warm orange. It was beautiful, just like Zitao said it would be. 

They ate their dinner under the orange glow of the evening, and the sandwiches they made were better than Sehun remembered. Once they were done, they sat on the blanket they’d purchased and watched the waves lap at the shore.

“Zitao,” Sehun said quietly as they watched the sky change color of its own accord, “I think I love you.”

“W-what?” Zitao cried, looking flustered. “Sehun…”

“I might be being too forward or maybe you think I’m moving too fast but I really think I love you,” Sehun continued, drawing patterns in the freshly-painted sand. Sehun wasn’t nervous. He felt confident that Zitao would understand him and eventually feel the same way, even if he didn’t at the time. 

But Zitao responded quietly. “I wanted to be the first one to say it,” Zitao said, “but I was scared that maybe you wouldn’t like it.”

Sehun looked up and laughed, climbing into Zitao’s lap and pushing him down into the sand. He leaned in, pressing his lips to Zitao’s jaw. “How could you think that?” he murmured against Zitao’s ear. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“You’re so gooey,” Zitao said weakly. Sehun kissed him again, sweetly at first, but their short kisses quickly turned hot and open-mouthed until Sehun found that Zitao had grown hard underneath him. He pulled back, looking at Zitao with wonder, and Zitao realized that Sehun had noticed his arousal. “I’m sorry!” Zitao cried, covering his eyes in embarrassment. “I shouldn’t be reacting like this—not now—I’m sorry; I can’t control myself.”

Sehun chuckled low enough that Zitao wouldn’t hear him. He grinded down on Zitao’s hips and pressed a kiss to the middle of his chest. Zitao opened his eyes wide. 

“Sehun—” he began, but Sehun cut him off. 

“You want this, right? And I want it,” Sehun said. Zitao nodded slowly.

“Are you sure?” Zitao asked. 

“Are you?”

“Yes,” Zitao replied, and Sehun kissed Zitao’s chest again.

“Then so am I,” he said, and Zitao allowed himself to be consumed in pleasure. 

Sehun had made love to Luhan only once, and it hadn’t been particularly enjoyable for Sehun. Now, though, Sehun wanted Zitao more than he’d ever wanted Luhan. 

They made love slowly that night, their bodies fitting together perfectly and their movements in tune with their heartbeats. In Zitao’s eyes, Sehun saw color like he’d never seen it before. He could hear color in the breathy moans that escaped Zitao’s lips. He felt electricity rushing through his nerves and adrenaline rushing through his veins and it felt  _vivid_.

When they both hit their peaks, Zitao collapsed against Sehun, not bothering to move away or clean them off. 

“I love you,” Zitao whispered, his voice shaky with pleasure. Sehun kissed his lover’s cheek. 

“I love you too,” Sehun replied. Zitao pulled away from Sehun and handed Sehun a small cloth that had come in the basket as well, and they cleaned themselves off. Zitao wrapped Sehun in his arms as they fell asleep next to each other, and Sehun finally decided that maybe Zitao wouldn’t leave him after all. 

 

 

 

 

Sehun awoke with a start in the middle of the night. He was sweating and his heart was racing, and he wasn’t sure why.

He relaxed when he looked up at the night sky to see the stars twinkling at him, and he remarked to himself that they hadn’t been out for the past few days. He was glad to see them again, topping off a perfect night. 

“Zitao,” he said, “there are stars.” He reached over to nudge his lover awake when he realized that Zitao was not there. 

Sehun stood up, looking around. He was starting to panic. “Zitao?” he called. “Zitao?” His voice didn’t even echo, and he couldn’t tell where Zitao had gone. He didn’t want to cry, but tears were starting to fall. He trusted Zitao; Zitao wouldn’t have left Sehun after what they’d just done.

Right?

“Zitao?” he yelled louder. “Zitao!” His voice was turning weak as tried to keep himself from crying. He should have known. He sat down on the ground, drawing into himself. “It’s a dream,” he whispered frantically. “It’s a dream, it’s a dream, it’s a dream.”

But of course, Zitao was nowhere to be found, because it wasn’t merely a dream. It was reality.

He stood once again and started to pack up his things. Zitao had left everything, from the dirtied cloth to the umbrella to the leftover sweets. 

“I don’t need him,” Sehun told himself, trying to be nonchalant even though nobody was watching. “I don’t need anyone. I’ll get over him.” 

He threw the soiled cloth into the ocean before picking up the basket and stalking off, the stars still twinkling above him. 

 

 

 

 

Sehun had been walking for twenty minutes when he saw Zitao’s unmistakable form. He was standing with another person, though, and Sehun couldn’t tell if he was seeing things or not. He assumed it was a villager. 

In any case, the feeling of relief had never been as intense as at that moment. 

“Zitao!” Sehun cried, running towards him. Zitao turned around looking shocked, and as Sehun approached, he slowed down.

The person with Zitao was Luhan. 

“Sehun, what are you doing?” Zitao asked, eyeing the basket in Sehun’s hands. 

“What are you doing?” Sehun countered, eyeing Luhan. Luhan looked angry.

“Sehun, do you know who this is?” Luhan demanded. “Do you know what he is?”

Sehun blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“Sehun, he’s an Astromaker!” Luhan cried, pointing at Zitao. “He’s been playing you all along!”

Zitao rounded on Luhan. “Playing him? Are you kidding me? What were you doing, then?” he demanded. “Caring for him? Loving him?”

“At least I wasn’t hiding who I was,” Luhan spat, and Sehun stepped forward. 

“Luhan…how did you find us?” Sehun asked calmly. Luhan looked up at Sehun with a slightly guilty expression on his face. 

“I…I live in the village with…with my companion,” Luhan said quietly, and Sehun tried not to look hurt. He shouldn’t have been hurt that Luhan had a new companion, because so did Sehun. But for some reason there was still that impact. “Anyway,” Luhan quickly added, “someone in the village said that there was a strange person who looked different. I knew it was you right away. I got curious and came looking, and then I saw this,” he pointed at Zitao rudely, “putting stars in the sky!”

Zitao glared at Luhan. “So what if I’m an Astromaker, huh?” he asked. 

“You know as well as Sehun does that Creators are not supposed to be each other’s companions! It’s against the rules.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell him I was one!” Zitao shouted, and finally Sehun had to step in. 

“Stop,” he said, glaring at Luhan. “This is annoying.” 

“Sehun, you realize you’re breaking a rule, right?” Luhan said. “You don’t break rules. I know you. You don’t break rules.”

“Maybe I’ve changed, Luhan, just like you have,” Sehun snapped. He looked over at Zitao with a smile. “You’ve been the one putting the stars in the sky all this time?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking worried. 

“They’re beautiful,” Sehun said. Zitao smiled too, looking relieved, and Luhan made an impatient noise. 

“Sehun, people will find out soon that you’ve been breaking rules,” Luhan said. “You too, Zitao. They’ll find out and you’ll get in trouble.”

“Why do you care so much?” Sehun asked, and Luhan looked offended. 

“Just because I left doesn’t mean I didn’t love you,” Luhan said, eyeing Zitao warily. “I want to make sure you don’t get caught. 

“We won’t,” Sehun assured him, but Luhan shook his head with exasperation.

“I didn’t want to have to tell you, but…my companion—his name’s Yixing, he’s a Cultivator—his father lives in the village too and he’s a Governor. He knows you’re around here, and he saw the stars. It’s not hard to piece together that it’s both of you. And…and he caught a glimpse of the sky earlier. That’s not the color it’s supposed to be, Sehun, and you and I both know it.”

Sehun paled, and Zitao too looked slightly worried. Sehun didn’t blame Zitao—it was probably better that Sehun didn’t know what he was. But the fact was that they’d been found out. 

“They’ll be looking for both of us,” Zitao said quietly, looking down at the ground. Sehun hadn’t painted anything since earlier that night. Everything was monochrome, and for the first time, Sehun hated not seeing color.

“If they find you two together…” Luhan trailed off, but Sehun and Zitao both knew what he was thinking. If they were found together, they’d be the recipients of unspeakable punishment. Neither of them knew what it was, but they’d both heard the stories as children of those who broke the rules and were never seen again. 

“I’ve broken other rules besides having Zitao as my companion,” Sehun gulped. “But Zitao—”

“I broke rules too,” Zitao admitted. “The stars are supposed to be in a grid, but I…I made them into patterns and used them as a map to find my way around. I cheated the system. I’m sorry, Sehun, it was me who pressured you into all this…”

“No, Zitao, it’s fine,” Sehun assured him. “We’ll just…we can just run. You can run and I can run.” 

“You mean you’ll go one way and I’ll go another way,” Zitao said sullenly, and Sehun didn’t want to say yes, but that was what he’d meant. “I understand. I guess…I guess this is goodbye, right?”

Luhan turned around to give them some space. 

“Thanks, Luhan,” Sehun whispered. “For everything.”

“I’m sorry,” Luhan said, his gaze fixed on the ground. He walked a few paces to give them further privacy, and Sehun felt a rush of respect for his old companion. He turned back to Zitao and he looked deep into his dusty eyes.

“I love you, Zitao,” Sehun said, tears forming in his eyes. “Don’t forget me, and don’t get caught. I love you so much.” He hugged Zitao tightly, willing himself not to cry on Zitao’s comfortable shoulder. 

“I know, Sehun,” Zitao sniffed. “I love you too. I love you more than anything. You can’t forget me either, okay?”

Sehun shook his head and gave Zitao a teary smile. “I don’t think I could.” He pressed his lips to Zitao’s, pulling him closer. He tried to memorize the feeling of Zitao’s body pressed against his, the feeling of their mouths moving together slowly. 

When they pulled apart, Zitao was crying outright. 

“I don’t want to leave you,” he sobbed. 

“Shh,” Sehun cooed, petting his lover’s hair gently. “We’ll meet again one day, right?”

“Sehun, you and I both know that’s not true,” Zitao cried. “We’ll never see each other again.”

“Then don’t forget me,” Sehun replied, feeling tears welling up. “I’ll watch the stars, and…and you can take this.” Sehun pulled the towel they’d slept on out of the basket and quickly painted it peach-colored. He handed it to Zitao. “Remember that, okay?” Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he couldn’t stop them no matter how hard he pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

He kissed Zitao again, lovingly, hoping he could imprint all his feelings on Zitao’s beautiful mouth. 

“I love you,” Zitao breathed, and Sehun had to turn away because he couldn’t stop crying. 

“I love you too,” he choked. He took his first step away from Zitao, and he remarked to himself that no punishment the Governors could give him would be as painful as this.

 

 

 

 

The stars went up for four nights. Sehun figured that Zitao had been caught after three more nights passed under a black sky.

He wasn’t sure if a week of freedom had been worth leaving Zitao, and in any case, Sehun had the sinking feeling that he would be caught soon too. 

On the eighth night, Sehun decided to take charge. If Zitao was going to be punished, Sehun couldn’t let him do it alone. He spread a luminescent green across the sky, not completely filling the sky with color but rather letting it dance in the middle of the darkness. 

 _Zitao would love this,_  he thought with a smile, looking up at how the green seemed to not know what to do, shifting shape slowly as it hung in the sky. Disorder was beautiful, and Zitao had always tried to show Sehun that. He wasn’t going to let Zitao take the punishment alone, and that meant for the first time in his life, he was going to let himself be a little reckless.

He didn’t paint the sky in the morning. He let it turn white, and he painted the grass a greenish blue instead of the emerald color it was supposed to be. He lounged around in a lavender field, and discarded red in favor of painting the buds a purple color. 

It took the Enforcers two more days to find him, which Sehun was surprised about because he’d expected them much sooner.

There were four of them, and Sehun wondered if perhaps they’d thought he was armed or dangerous in some capacity. He wasn’t, just angry. Maybe that was enough.

“You’re a disgrace to all Painters,” the smallest Enforcer told him as two of the burlier ones manhandled him into a standing position. Sehun frowned. 

“The rules are ridiculous,” he argued, but the Enforcer just glared at him. 

“We’ll see how ridiculous you think the rules are when you get your punishment. It’s been recorded that you were also the companion to an Astromaker. Do you know what kind of punishment that warrants?”

“No,” Sehun replied. He was trying to be brave but he couldn’t deny the fear swirling in the pit of his stomach. It had seemed like such a good idea, to stand in solidarity with Zitao, but the way the Enforcer was laughing made him regret his actions.

“You’ll find out,” the Enforcer spat.

 

 

 

 

Sehun wondered if psychology was part of the punishment, because his nerves were up even higher than they had ever been. 

They’d brought him to the city, which was impressive even though Sehun was scared out of his mind. It was colored, which he found surprising, and there were more people in one place than he’d ever seen in his life. 

Sehun had expected harsh treatment, like a prisoner in a cell. 

But he wasn’t in a cell at all, he was in a room. It was lavish and beautiful, and to his surprise, brightly colored as well. They provided him with three meals a day with meat in every single meal. They had frozen sweet milk, which Sehun had only had as a child. He had a bed that was cushy and soft, with as many pillows as he could ever want.

Isolation was the only discomfort. And worry. Worry was consuming him; he couldn’t eat the food he was given, couldn’t sleep in the bed they’d provided. He’d ask questions to the pretty girls that served him his food, and the children who’d come in the morning to fluff his pillows, but he was never answered, and it tore him apart. 

He had no idea where Zitao was, if he was even in the same city. He had no idea when his punishment would come, or in what way, and it was eating him up. 

After two weeks, Sehun started to hallucinate, and that’s when a Governor paid him a visit. 

“You’re the child who saw fit to break the rules of the Painters, aren’t you?” the Governor asked. Sehun looked up at him with glassy eyes. His colors looked dull and horrible.

“Zitao,” he choked out. It was one of the only words he could remember.

“Ah, yes,” the Governor said, as if he was recalling some long-forgotten fact. “The Astromaker. He’s caused quite a bit of trouble; far more than you, in fact. He’ll be punished accordingly.” The Governor sat down on Sehun’s cushy bed, and Sehun looked up at him from the floor once again. 

“What?” Sehun said, even though the Governor had not said anything at all. The Governor disregarded him. 

“So, Sehun, how do you propose we carry out your punishment?” the Governor asked. 

“Please,” Sehun started to cry, “please, this is enough.” The Governor looked uninterested. 

“Unfortunately, you don’t get a say in the matter,” the Governor sighed. “Sehun, do you know what the greatest gift in this world is?”

Sehun had opinions. Love, he thought. Life. Happiness. 

“The ability to Create,” the Governor answered for him. “For you, you’ve been bestowed the most fantastic gift the Earth has to give. And you’ve abused that gift. Your Astromaker friend has done the same. Therefore, as Creators, you will both be disposed of.”

The sentence was so blunt that Sehun didn’t have time to react; he just blinked as the Governor stood and left the room. 

So death was his punishment, then. Death was Zitao’s punishment. Somehow it didn’t seem fair that they’d be put to death merely for loving each other, but then again, such were the ways of the Creators.

 

 

 

 

A few agonizing days later, Sehun’s door opened to reveal a red-haired beauty dressed in exquisite white robes.

“I’m Minseok,” the man smiled, “and I’m here to carry out your sentence.”

Sehun started at him, wide eyed. He backed up as Minseok entered the room, and Minseok was wearing that terrible smile. 

“No, please,” Sehun said. He didn’t care if people called him a coward; he didn’t want to die. “Please don’t.”

“I have to,” Minseok sighed, looking genuinely melancholy. “It’s my job, just like painting was yours.”

_Was._

“Z-Zitao, is he…” Sehun stuttered.

“His punishment was the same as yours and has been carried out,” Minseok said. “I’m sorry this has to happen. I really am. But please, cooperate. It will only take a moment. It’s painless, I promise.”

Sehun started to cry, fear suddenly gripping him and pulling him towards insanity. Zitao was dead and his life was to be cut short in a matter of seconds. 

“Sehun, please, don’t cry. It makes it much more difficult,” Minseok said, putting a hand on Sehun’s shoulder. “Just accept it. There’s nothing you can do about it anymore. It’ll all be over in a moment and you’ll start a new existence. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Sehun’s tears and tremors ceased, but the fear didn’t. Minseok put a hand over Sehun’s eyes and took his wrist in his other hand, pressing two fingers to Sehun’s pulse point. 

The feeling was tremendous; it felt as if a great burden was being lifted—the burden of life, Sehun assumed—and suddenly the fear started to dissipate. He was relaxing, slowly, and it was almost as if he didn’t care about death anymore. He felt sleepy, as if he was drifting off into nothingness.

And then Minseok pulled his hands away.

“See? That wasn’t so horrible, right?” Minseok asked. Sehun blinked, looking down at his hands, which were still perfectly solid and perfectly intact. 

“But…but I’m still alive,” Sehun said slowly, and Minseok burst out laughing. 

“Please don’t tell me you thought it would kill you,” Minseok guffawed. Sehun was still confused. 

“I—but death usually kills you…” Sehun said tentatively, looking at Minseok, who was laughing so hard tears were coming out of his eyes. 

“Death? Who told you that death was going to be your punishment?” he chuckled, wiping his tears away. “Really, do you think that we’d put you to death? You’re hardly in the same ranks as a serial killer, Sehun.”

“But…then what was my punishment? I just feel…sleepy,” Sehun asked, and Minseok looked surprised. 

“You mean they really told you you would die?” Minseok asked. “I need to talk to the Governors, my god. Sehun, your gift has been removed. You’ll never be able to paint again. You’re not a Painter anymore, you’re not a Creator. I won’t go so far as to say that you’re nothing, but…”

Sehun inhaled sharply. “You mean…you mean I’m free?”

Minseok frowned. “Well, in a sense…”

Sehun felt like he was going to burst. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry or dance or do a flip. He was  _free._

“My hair,” he said excitedly, tugging on Minseok’s pristine robes. “My hair—”

“You’re blond,” Minseok deadpanned, pulling his arm out of Sehun’s grasp. “I’m getting the feeling this isn’t much of a punishment for you.”

Sehun calmed himself a little bit, but couldn’t help smiling as he shook his head. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t,” Minseok replied, “but you should keep up the appearance that you’re devastated. For your own good.”

Sehun sighed, sitting back down on the floor with a smile. “What now?”

Minseok looked tired as he pulled a scroll from his robes. “You’ll be accommodated in a building with others like you…you’re going to be escorted there. And you’ll be confined to this city for the rest of your life, except in very special conditions.”

“What about Zitao?” Sehun asked.

Minseok smiled at Sehun. “He got the same punishment as you, didn’t I say that? He’s been settled in the building for a week now.”

Sehun was giddy with excitement. “When do I leave?”

“Now,” Minseok replied, and Minseok couldn’t help smiling as Sehun bit his lip with happiness. 

The Enforcers came to escort Sehun to his new accommodations, and like Minseok had advised, Sehun did his very best to appear devastated. 

It was a beautiful building, though, with muted colors and comfortable furniture, and Sehun couldn’t understand how anyone would consider this punishment. 

“You’re apartment 331,” one of the Enforcers said. “You’ve been marked so any attempt to escape this city will be punished.”

“I understand,” Sehun replied, but in reality, he had very little regard for the punishments of the Creators. The Enforcer handed him two keys and a small scroll, which Sehun stashed away to read later. He had other things on his plate. 

They left him, and as soon as they were gone, a knock came at Sehun’s doorframe.

“Zitao,” Sehun smiled, turning to meet his lover’s—brown?—eyes. “They painted you!” he cried, rushing towards Zitao and running his fingers through Zitao’s locks of honey-colored hair. 

“Your colors are different too,” Zitao smiled. “But your eyes are still green. I like that.”

“And I like your brown eyes. I thought I was going to die, Zitao,” he laughed. “I thought they were going to kill me.”

Zitao smiled at him. “Thank god they didn’t,” he said. “But Sehun…I can’t use the stars anymore. We’ll never get to go back to the ocean or the grove, and—”

“Who cares?” Sehun drawled lazily, pulling his lover close. “When we have each other, does it really matter?”

Zitao exhaled a sigh of relief and he leaned into Sehun. “No,” he replied. “I missed you.”

“The last thing I painted was a field of lavender,” Sehun whispered to Zitao. “I painted the entire thing purple. I painted the grass bluish green. I even put green in the sky.”

“I’m proud of you,” Zitao grinned. 

“I’m proud of myself too,” Sehun replied. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Zitao said, letting Sehun lean in and kiss him hello. 

 

 

 

 

There’s a saying among the Creators that says “should you lose the ability to Create, you lose half of yourself.”

There’s a saying among humans that says “your lover is your other half.”

Whether or not either of those sayings was true, Sehun always felt complete when he woke up in the mornings to see Zitao sleeping right next to him, and honestly, Sehun couldn’t ask for anything more.


End file.
